


Three Times Dr. Junito Vargas Fibbed

by sanguinity



Category: Noah's Arc
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:39:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/pseuds/sanguinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look, no B.S. Let's just promise to be as honest with each other as we dare, and as kind to each other as we deserve."  -- Dr. Junito Vargas, "It Ain't Over 'til it's Over"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Dr. Junito Vargas Fibbed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [terajk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terajk/gifts).



> Many thanks to my betas, Sophinisba and Grrlpup!
> 
> The final section is based on the 2x06 digisode "[Ricky Has an Issue With Sex](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBDcdt6HVZU)," which was cut from 2x05 "Give It Up." For those who haven't seen it, you need know only this: Ricky has never bottomed, doesn't want to, and has convinced himself that Junito will someday leave him over it.
> 
> I give blanket permission for secondary fanworks based on this fic.

The week after they broke up, Junito came home from a twenty-four hour shift at the hospital to find that Ricky had called six times, but hadn't left a message. Junito wouldn't have noticed the calls if he hadn't been thumbing through his caller ID log, trying to reverse engineer an unintelligible callback number. But there they were, one-by-one on the tiny screen: six calls in a row from Ricky Davis.

Junito's first thought was that there had been an emergency, Ricky becoming ever more frantic as Junito failed to pick up. ( _But why wouldn't he call Alex or Noah?_ the practical part of Junito's brain asked. The opportunistic piece singsonged, _Ricky has an emergency, all right, an emergency need for youuuuu!_ Junito bit off the latter thought: fatigue did bad things to his brain.) He was hesitating over the redial button when something about the timestamps clawed its way past his fatigue. He paged through the log again to check: Ricky's calls had been within eight minutes of each other. Junito paged through them one more time, redoing the arithmetic. Six calls in eight minutes. Had Ricky been trying to bully Junito into picking up the phone? But didn't Ricky know that Junito would pick up for him? Ricky should have known that Junito had a long shift at the hospital, and that he should call Junito's pager if he needed—

The cold realization cut through Junito's fatigue, the way the adrenaline of discovering Ricky's calls hadn't. Of course Ricky had known.

Junito pressed the outgoing message button, wanting to hear for himself what Ricky had been listening to. Junito's voice was tinny in the cheap speaker grill, but there was a happiness in it that Junito hadn't been able to feel this week. "Hi, it's Junito! I'm probably off saving a life or performing some other saintly duty, so leave a message! And be creative! Ready? Set? Go!" Junito imagined Ricky dialing repeatedly, indulging himself in might-have-beens. Junito could almost imagine doing it himself, and it was his own damn voice.

Junito toyed with changing the message to something about being off getting his freak on with half of West Hollywood—if Ricky was going to stalk Junito's machine, let him chew on that image—but it wasn't really Junito's style. That, and it would say too much about how Ricky's rejection had hurt.

But if Ricky wanted Junito's voice, Ricky was going to have to have the guts to deal with Junito himself. He recorded a new message, putting as little of himself into it as he could. "This is Junito. Leave a message." Playing it back, Junito could hear more anger in his voice than he liked betraying, but he didn't re-record it. He was angry and exhausted; why shouldn't that show in his voice? He turned off the ringer and went to bed.

When Junito began dating one of the pharmacists at the hospital two months later, he changed his message back to something more typically himself. "Hi, it's Junito! I'm probably out saving L.A. from meteors, or something equally as studly! Leave a message, and be creative! Ready? Set? Go!" The pharmacist was pleasant enough, but after four dates, both of them knew it wasn't going anywhere.

Three months and an archivist later, Ricky's name once again appeared on Junito's caller ID. Again, another week later. Then Ricky called twice in one night. Junito nearly called Ricky back: he was fairly certain that Ricky would need only a little push. But if Ricky couldn't pull himself together enough to leave a phone message, Junito knew, it was unlikely that it would work out any differently this time.

However, it did leave the question of why Junito was back on Ricky's mind. Junito spent more time pondering that than he liked, and the longer he thought about it, the more melodramatic his stories got. Ricky had come up positive after all and wanted someone to talk to, but was embarrassed about the way he had behaved. (Junito was here if Ricky needed him, didn't Ricky know that?) Someone had broken Ricky's heart, and now Ricky was turning back to his first love to pick up the pieces. (Oh, to be Ricky's first love! And how gentle Junito would be!) Ricky had realized that he could never be happy without Junito, that clubbing and cruising had become so much meaningless, joyless flesh, and now he was back to beg Junito's forgiveness. (Even Junito had a hard time bringing himself to believe that one.)

Fed up with himself, Junito finally asked Alex outright how Ricky was doing.

"Ricky?" Alex's eyes lit up. "Oh, you know how Ricky is. Although if you ask me, he never got over you. Trying to drown the memory of you in an endless parade of men, he is."

In spite of himself, Junito laughed. "And how would that be different from what he was doing before he met me?"

"Oh, back then he was trying to drown the emptiness of never having known you in an endless parade of men."

Junito grinned and shook his head. "Such a romantic, Alex. I think it's safe to say that Ricky was quite happy with his parade of men."

"He couldn't have been that happy, if he tried to drop his boogina chasing ways for a chance at you. But _that's_ not the interesting question. The interesting question, Dr. Vargas, is why you're asking."

"No reason," Junito fibbed. "I just thought I'd ask. He's a good friend of yours, after all."

"Mmm-hmmmmmm," Alex nodded knowingly. Junito readied himself for another sally, but to his surprise, Alex let it go.

It was that very next Saturday that Junito came out of the clinic exam room to find Ricky staring at Junito from behind the reception desk, ready to bolt. Junito wasn't sure what he felt about that, but his next patient was waiting, so Junito just said, "Hey," (Ricky choked out an answering "Hey") and retreated back into his exam room with his patient. His door hadn't even shut before he heard Ricky's furious whisper and Alex's answering laugh.

"Oh, honey," Alex sang out. "You _know_ lying is a disease with me!"

Junito grimaced and made a mental note: never ever try to slip a lie past another liar.

***

"Well, I've never been in _this_ relationship before. So we're even."

It was a bit of a fib, really. Between them, Junito had all the serious relationship skills—if the years since his diagnosis had taught him anything, it was to rely on honesty and communication, however much it might hurt—while Ricky... God love him, but Ricky was the WeHo Party Boy From Hell, as Tashi had so aptly put it.

It was a case in point, that conversation with Tashi: who but a WeHo party boy would use a post-diagnosis counseling session to come on to another man? Junito should have walked back into his exam room and shut the door again, should have forced Ricky to keep his attention on Tashi where it belonged. But Tashi had asked, "Would _you_ date someone who was positive?" and Junito had been unable to turn away from the unholy spectacle of someone else holding Ricky's feet to the fire for once. Of course, if anyone had asked, Junito had listened in for Tashi's sake: better for Junito to intervene on the spot than to allow Ricky to inadvertently endorse a patient's fears. But although Junito had an unimpeachable, patient-centric justification for standing in that doorway, he also could not deny the horrible beauty of watching vindication unfold right in front of you. It was as if the universe wanted Junito to be petty and bitter, offering up a gift like that.

But then Ricky had been inexplicably overcome by a fit of honesty and communication—although in classic Ricky style, via hypotheticals and over someone else's shoulder—and Junito remembered why he had started to fall for this man during those two short weeks, six months before. When Ricky decided to tell you what he hoped for, when this man of tissue-paper defenses swallowed hard and handed over the power to excise his very heart from his body, oh, there was no rush outside of the miracles of medicine that compared to that. For a few moments, while Ricky hoped before a very bewildered witness to be worthy of Junito's trust, there was nothing in the world but Ricky's eyes.

And now here they were, Ricky so terribly earnest, so terrified of fucking up, that he could barely look at Junito's face. They would be lucky to last the week, at this rate. Junito ducked down to intercept Ricky's gaze, trying to settle Ricky by strength of will alone. Ricky's eyes finally met Junito's, and the world did its trick of going away again. There was so much trust in Ricky's eyes. So much hope that Junito knew what he was doing and could carry them both.

It would be simpler, Junito thought, if he had any inclination toward being a Daddy. Ricky's earnestness could then be offered as a fair exchange for Junito's guidance. They would expect a certain amount of naive fucking up (and that there would be less of it, over time); Junito would create a firm but limited scope for Ricky to fuck up in. In some alternate universe, they might have a tempestuous but satisfying relationship as Daddy and boy. But Junito lived in this universe. He had a residency to finish and his commitments at the clinic; Daddy and boy was probably too capital-R Relationship for someone as commitment-phobic as Ricky; and anyway, it wasn't Junito's kink. As much as Junito liked saving the world and everyone in it, Junito needed to come home to an equal.

( _Come home to?_ Junito was lost already.)

It would never happen if Ricky didn't believe he could be an equal. It would never happen if _Junito_ didn't believe Ricky could be an equal.

Junito pretended that having no experience in this relationship was equivalent to having no experience in any relationship. Junito pretended so hard that he didn't notice that his proposed ground rules implied that all the potential fuck-ups would be Ricky's.

Ricky did notice. But Ricky never imagined that _Junito_ would fuck up, so he didn't object.

***

Every surface in Ricky's apartment was covered in lit candles. Rose petals, too, Junito noted as he let himself in, but mostly candles. Ricky had a thing for the grand, romantic gesture: somewhere in West Hollywood there was a shop owner with no inventory left on his shelves. Junito sometimes wondered if this was what Ricky thought that people in relationships did, and if these big displays were his attempt to prove that he could do relationships, he really could; or if it was more like a newly discovered kink for Ricky, one of the few that couldn't be satisfied at a hook-up party. Once, Junito had said to Ricky, _You know you don't need to do all this to keep me, don't you?_ Ricky had looked so crestfallen that Junito had let it go. It wasn't like Junito didn't enjoy the attention. He just worried sometimes.

But tonight was Junito's birthday. If Ricky wanted to spoil Junito, Junito would let him.

Junito found Ricky in the bedroom. He was stretched out on his stomach on the bed, wearing nothing but tiny gold lame briefs, so tiny as to be almost hidden by the giant red satin bow he had tied around his hips. Ricky's body gleamed in the candlelight, his muscles relaxed and beautiful, the dark bronze of his skin far more arresting than the showy red and gold at his hips.

Junito stalled in the doorway, taking the sight in. When he had resolved to let Ricky spoil him, Junito's imagination had fallen a bit short.

Ricky's smile was nervous, almost shy. "Happy birthday, baby."

"Ricky?" Junito was still a bit off-balance.

Normally Ricky would be smugly posing by now, showing off that magnificent body—Ricky knew exactly how good he looked—but he had barely moved since Junito had come into the room. Ricky fidgeted slightly, as if his hips were pinioned to the bed. The bow, Junito realized. Ricky couldn't move, not without crushing or disarranging it. Junito flashed on an image of Ricky wriggling on the bed, struggling to reach behind himself to tie that bow just so. And then, once the bow was finally tied, Ricky remaining very still, unable to leave the bed or change position—for how long? Junito hadn't called before coming over—while he waited for Junito to arrive and 'free' him.

The image was sexier than it had any right to be: perhaps Junito did have a thing for bondage, after all. Junito bit his lip, imagining what that sash might be used for later. Funny how, with Ricky, he kept discovering new tastes. Junito had never enjoyed cruising, but dating an experienced party boy had its perks, even aside from the vicarious thrill of it. And tonight, it appeared, it would be Junito's turn to make like a WeHo party boy. Junito grinned.

"Ready for your present?" Ricky asked. He seemed oddly tense.

It took Junito a moment—he wasn't thinking well, his brain still stuck on the image of Ricky hungry for Junito, trust in his eyes, muscles straining against that red sash—but the penny finally dropped: Ricky hadn't gift-wrapped _himself,_ but his _ass._ Junito had been teasing Ricky about 'birthday presents', but hadn't imagined that Ricky would take that seriously. "You mean...?" Junito glanced meaningfully at the bow and came to sit on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure you're ready?"

Ricky looked at the wall. Even before he reached for the bottle of vodka sitting nearby—and how long had he been bolstering his courage with that this evening?—Junito could read Ricky's dread. Ricky took a long slug, then shot Junito a forced grin, all false bravery and faked willingness. "Now I am." Junito went cold.

He would disbelieve that this was happening, but he knew from bitter experience that the only time you bothered thinking something wasn't happening was when it was. As an experiment, Junito gently reached out to untie the bow. Ricky flinched—more than flinched, went rigid with fear—and Junito instantly dropped the satin, his stomach roiling.

Why had Ricky believed this was necessary? What had Junito done, or failed to do, to bring them here? The questions locked on his tongue, Junito too upset to be able to scrub the undertones of accusation from them. ( _How could you even imagine I could enjoy this?_ ) Groping for words, he clung to the only idea that was important: "You don't have to do this."

"No, but you do—"

Junito schooled his face. He might need many things right now, but not one of them was a birthday invitation to rape his lover.

"—and I'm all for you," Ricky insisted.

But there it was in Ricky's eyes: trust. Determination. Love. Whatever had gotten them to this point, it wasn't Ricky believing that Junito was some kind of monster. Junito didn't know that he had been afraid of that, until he discovered that Ricky hadn't been thinking it.

Ricky was waiting for Junito to say something. They could untangle this later. Later, when it wasn't Junito's birthday and Ricky wasn't dressed like a sacrifice to the gods of Chippendale. Right now, what Junito needed was to make the worry in Ricky's eyes go away.

Junito took Ricky's hand and shelved his hopes for the evening. Maybe some future night they could trust each other enough to find other uses for that sash, but it wouldn't be tonight. Junito made himself smile. "...and hearing that is the best present I could ever hope for." Junito determinedly ignored the fact that none of his previous best ever birthday presents had induced nausea, and pushed on to something that actually was the truth. "There's no rush for the rest."

"Really?" The doubt in Ricky's eyes hurt.

"Trust me. There's going to be a lot more birthdays." Ricky ducked his head in sudden embarrassment, and Junito squeezed his hand. "You'll come around. Eventually, maybe you'll even turn around," he quipped, trying to lighten the moment. Ricky's eyes went big again and Junito quickly leaned in to reassure him, "When you're ready."

Ricky met Junito's eyes for a long moment, then lifted himself up to pull Junito down into a kiss. This time, Ricky's body language was unconflicted, the kiss freely given. Junito let himself kiss Ricky back, taking comfort in the grip of Ricky's fingers on his skull: Ricky's fingers telling Junito that he wanted Junito just there and nowhere else, Ricky holding Junito steady.


End file.
